Dear Husband, I'm Not the Same Woman You Fell in Love With

Ten years ago, I was … FUN. I went out all the time, laughed constantly, and found myself always surrounded by friends from one walk of life or another.

I met you in the Summer of 2005 and instantly fell head over heels in love. We moved in together and got married within three years. It was all so exciting — we loved each other intensely; displayed our affection publicly to the chagrin of our friends and laughed constantly.

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Then we had our children.

After Rebecca arrived four years ago, I spiraled into a deep, dark postpartum depression. After Lila came last year, I swam for a bit in choppy, anxiety-filled waters. Both times, I climbed my way out thanks to your strength. Thanks to your support. Thanks to your encouragement. But it was a strain that both of us felt, and it left its marks on our relationship, as did the simple act of becoming parents.

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Today, I am more irritable. I take things more personally. I have gained weight. I am more tired. I am scatterbrained, even more so than before. Was all or any of this because of the depression? The medication it took to bring me back? Simply the new, massive undertaking of raising children? I am figuring out who I am now that our family is complete.

Our apartment is more cluttered and full, and not in a good, homey-feeling way. Our life is over-scheduled, as invitations and obligations to keep up with family and friends arrive every day — and as more of our friends leave the town and area that we so deeply love, making it harder to do so.

We haven't been to the movies in forever. Instead, Frozen, Mulan, or Cinderella is on repeat in our house. We haven't been to a concert in so long. These days, the Sesame Street Platinum Hits CD is as good as it gets. We go to bed earlier than the people we used to make fun of for doing so. We haven't had a meal where we killed two bottles of white wine and sang in the streets on the way home since our second date.

But, together we have made two incredible girls, who are our spitting images, both physically and in their personalities (I'll leave it to others to determine which girl takes after which of us). We have created a home for them that is full of constant love, family hugs, and laughter. You and I have had dinner together every single night that it was possible, always checking in with the other before taking care of our own meal. We have made new friends and watched our family grow as well.

We read books to our kids using voices, accents, and with you constantly telling me I'm not putting enough effort into making authentic animal noises. We play board games and plan outings to places that are fun for both the girls and ourselves. We often gaze at each other over their heads to share a smile or roll our eyes or let the other know that one of our kids has pooped. (Speaking of which, we have become a pair who can swiftly make any fluid coming out of any orifice of our child disappear. ) And before Lila (the light sleeper) was born, we would sneak into their room at night to watch Rebecca sleep, kiss our hands, and pat her on the tush.

Quite simply, you make me more fun when things have gotten so real. You are what keeps me feeling light when things can get so heavy and dark. Watching you play with our daughters as only a father can is the silver lining to any cloudy day, and hearing them laugh with you is the music that I play in my head when I'm having a hard time.

I know so much about me, each of our lives, and our love is different than when we met ten years ago — but I love the life we have made together, and you, so much. Our journey has been one that has led us both to rise to occasions, withstand obstacles, and raise tiny, impressionable humans (which is why Rebecca's favorite topics of conversations includes a plethora of potty words — oops).

And by all means, we've had it pretty easy thus far. There are sure to be more tests to come as we, our children, our friends, and our parents age, as personal and professional mountains that must be surmounted grow out of the road in front of us. But as long as we stay us — our humor- and fun-loving, nickname-calling, animal noise-criticizing, playful selves, I know we will be just fine.